Hope Salad

She waits for a telegraph from spring.

Pushes aside the wadding,
finds tiny leaves infused with the hardship of winter.

Plucks one leaf at a time.
Only the willing are chosen.

Finds hope in the salad,
omens in the earth.

This is what hope tastes like to her:
sweet, generous, green.

Darcy Falk
April 5, 2002